Picking At The Splinters
by TheLyricsAreMyStory
Summary: Was that what we were doing now? Picking at the splinters? The memories we never talked about, that still stood out, that needed smoothing over but never got the chance. Carter one-shot, continuation of 28/03/2018.


_**A/N: So, I think this may be the first Carter fic I've done. It's a continuation of Wednesday's episode, where Carla offered Simon the job at Underworld, and takes place when Peter comes round to thank her. I hope you enjoy, and if you like me writing this pairing, let me know and I may do more!**_

 _ **For Abbey and all the Carter fans I love x**_

 **Picking At The Splinters:**

I sit with my head in my hands, dwelling on the same thoughts which paced around my mind every night. Granted, they were easing as time went on; I no longer had to mentally plan my funeral or write my will. But all this spare time on my hands forced me to think, think about how so much had changed now I was back, and I didn't just mean Roy's coffee machine.

There's a loud knock on the door and it makes me sit bolt upright, pushing the glass of wine that I wasn't supposed to be drinking away. Firstly, because I was instructed to introduce alcohol back into my diet slowly, and secondly, because if Roy wasn't at this show tonight, he'd be reciting the lecture I had heard many times before, about how consuming alcohol downstairs was in fact illegal.

"Peter?" I can't help the tickle of excitement that builds inside me, painting a smile on my face at his appearance. "Twice in one day?"

"Yeah." He does that same slight laugh he always does, shuffling his feet as he does so. It was endearing, and I couldn't help admitting that to myself. "Making a habit of it, aren't I?"

"Well if you wanted a bacon butty..." I look behind me, placing a hand on the door frame. "We closed three hours ago, and Roy's out for the night. I mean, I'd make you one but we both know that wouldn't go too well."

"I'm not after a bacon butty." He tells me, before I continue to babble on. "It's actually you I came for."

"Oh." I respond, waiting for him to elaborate, feeling flattered all the same.

"Can I... Come in?" He indicates and I immediately step aside as he drifts past me.

"Is this about Simon?" I call, as I close the door, drifting back into the café and swiftly moving the already spotted glass of wine out of sight.

"Sort of yeah." His eyes dart downwards. "Are you supposed to be drinking?"

"...Well I don't think it's your place to care about that." I dare to put, plainly and he hesitates for a moment.

"I do care." He replies. "I still care about you." The room falls silent for a moment as I zone out, staring at the chocolate brown orbs I once fell in love with... And admittedly, the love that never fully went away.

"Um..." I finally cough, snapping back to reality, as he does in canon with me. "So... Simon?"

"Well I just wanted to thank you for earlier, you know?" He clears his throat. "Chasing those lads off. Offering him that job."

"Well I really didn't do anything." I assure him.

"He really looks up to you." He tells me, which I find hard to believe after what we had been through. "I can tell he cares about you too. You're family to him."

"Not according to earlier." I almost scoff, wishing I hadn't brought it up because he instantly looks inquisitive at my remark. "...It's nothing, he was just being a moody teenager."

"Carla?" He persists. "Did he upset you?"

"No." I sigh, moving my gaze to meet his again, his meaningful expression that hangs off my every word. "He just said I was nothing to him... Which is completely understandable, I get that... It's just... Well he's the closest I've ever had to a child isn't he, apart from... Our baby girl." I gently phrase it, noticing his face soften.

"You mean a lot to him." He assures me. "He's just lashing out."

"I know that." I retaliate, regretting saying anything at all.

"And you're like a mother figure to him too."

"I doubt that, Peter." I manage a small laugh, flicking the chipped wood that lined the table, to avoid looking at him now the subject had moved on to something I was knowingly sensitive about. "I'm not a mother figure to anyone. Besides, I don't think Toyah would appreciate you saying that."

"That's not true." He ignores my mention of his girlfriend. "You are a mother."

"No I'm not." I almost snap, confused as to why I was so annoyed at his ability to produce the words I had always craved to hear. He doesn't look taken-aback, maybe he was still used to my sudden anger stricken backlash, because I couldn't imagine Toyah gave him much of a hard time. Then again, he was the same, he knew how to suddenly flip, reject any signals of vulnerability. Perhaps that's what made us so compatible. Or perhaps that's what made us fall apart.

"We never really talked about it." His words are so soft I find it hard to be mad at them. "Her." He adds and I remain quiet, my grip on the table intensifying, picking at the splinters that Roy really needed to sand down. Was that what we were doing now? Picking at the splinters? The memories we never talked about, that still stood out, that needed smoothing over but never got the chance.

"So you came over here to say thank you?" I force back the tears I want to release, and he can tell, he was one of the only people who could see past my facade. He always had done. "Well, Toyah will be wanting you back now. Won't she? You need to work on making it a... Family friendly place. That's me no longer drinking in there." I stop before I embarrass myself any further, my eyes skimming past his expression, waiting for me to vent. Why was he being so nice to me? Why was I being so nice to him? Why were we even here? "...I guess maybe it didn't matter as much to you. You've got Simon. Another baby on the way..."

"It did matter." He says so firmly it makes me believe it. "So much."

I don't bother inserting some bitter remark about how it clearly hadn't, else he wouldn't have been sleeping with the babysitter the whole time. What was the point? That had been said and done. He knew. I knew. Everybody knew. I was too tired to even go over it in my head.

"Did you ever talk about her with Nick?" The words ripple through me and I swallow, pulling a chair out and sitting down, knowing that we were clearly now having this conversation, and I needed to brace myself for it.

"Once." I respond, as he hesitantly sits down opposite me. "Only once. When Erica miscarried. Apart from that it never really came up. We talked about having children. I don't know whether we would have... Possibly, if I hadn't screwed it up."

"And that's what you wanted?"

"Yeah." I answer him, even though it wasn't what he wanted to hear. But it was selfish of him to expect otherwise, when he had everything right now, everything without me. "I loved him. And he loved me. _Actually_ loved me... He wanted a baby. I'd have given him anything... I'd have given you anything. Had you have let me. I'd have given you her."

"I know." He practically whispers and I dip my head, desperate to calm the ache in my throat with the red wine next to me, but resisting for his sake. "It was my fault."

"Yeah it was." I don't deny. "...She'd be three now. Four in November. Taking her to nursery. Pushing her on the swings. Plaiting her hair like that princess in that film. Mind you... I'm rubbish at doing all that fancy stuff. Probably have been a let down at that as well."

"You wouldn't have been a let down. You'd have been amazing." Peter says gently and I raise my head to look at him, tears brimming in my eyes, not bothering to push them away. "And you won't believe it but I think about all those things too."

"Do you?" I try to conceal the surprise in his tone and he nods.

"Everyday."

"So do I." I admit and he manages a weak smile, reaching for my hand across the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. The butterflies that erupt at the contact is what causes me to retract it from his grip, and he lets me, he lets it slip away, fall back into my lap. I didn't want it to. But it had to. Because he had his life now and I had mine. And anything that could have happened, was all a fiction of the past now.

"I almost caved."

"Hm?" He frowns, not knowing what I was on about, which doesn't shock me because I hardly did either.

"The day I miscarried." I swallow and he listens intently. "You told me I could treat you like a punch bag, or you could sit and hold me. I almost caved."

"I'm not surprised if you wanted to hit me."

"Oh I did." I nod, my eyes searching his. "But that's not what I'm talking about... All I wanted was you. When I was at my weakest and I'd lost everything... Do you realise how much strength it took to say no? When I craved it so bad."

"I respect you for doing so." He replies and I let a tear roll down my cheek. "Hey." He reaches out a hand to brush it away, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand pauses on my face, his palm refreshing against the heat of my cheek. My eyes dart upwards. I hate them for doing it. I hate the way he is looking at me. It reminded me of everything I had lost. The love. The love I thought I'd never find after losing Liam. But I had, and it was sitting right in front of me. _He_ was sitting right in front of me. I hated it but I loved it.

Don't do it.

I didn't know why those three words were repeating over and over in my head, because it was a secret to myself that I wanted him to lean in. That everybody I had used since I had been back here was for his benefit. To distract myself from seeing him pacing the cobbles in that same leather jacket I was first attracted to.

I don't know how long our eyes are fixated on one another. But doing so was suffice enough to say this was the most covet Wednesday evening I had spent for a long time.

"Anyway." I break the silence which neither of us could deny was temptingly building a romantic tension. Although wishing I could relish in it for longer. "You and Toyah will have your baby soon. Boy or girl? Do you know yet?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I think uh, it'll probably be a surprise."

"That'll be nice." It hurts me to say it. "I'm really glad things have worked out for you. I'm pleased you're happy, settled."

"Settled." He repeats, and we both knew it was something that Peter Barlow was rarely considered to be. "So have you got anyone on the horizon? Now that you've let Sinead have Daniel back?"

"Ha..." I trail off, managing a weak smile as I clear the tears off my cheeks, allowing his hand to finally fall away. "Not really." I lie, deciding not to share my secret about Ali with my ex-husband. Whatever that 'secret' was, because nothing had taken place since last week's events.

"Well it's not as if it'll be hard." He shrugs. "You could have anyone on the street if you wanted."

"Anyone?" The word falls out of my mouth, creating another silence because deep down, I knew what that word really meant, and so did he. The way he is looking at me urges me to fill the hole I had just dug. "Even Norris?"

"Well, yeah." He laughs, and it makes me smile, seeing him happy, the way he used to make me happy, just by watching the corners of his mouth turn up and his eyebrows even out in that same way they did when he relaxed. "Is that who you're setting your sights on."

"You never know." I shrug, my eyes flickering back to his again, as I force myself to fight the feelings I knew were crawling back, or never went away. "I uh... I'm quite tired, actually."

"Oh right." He stands up, taking the hint. "Uh so... What did I come over for again?"

"To thank me, about Simon." I remind him, as recognition flashes in his eyes. "Apparently."

"Oh yeah, so, thank you." He confirms and I nod knowingly. "...I'm sorry for... Bringing things up. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." I force a smile. "Hard as nails, me."

"Yeah well you can lead most people to believe that." He reminds me, and I gaze at him, all my weakness I had let him have, flashing between us. The late nights, the rough sex, the soft kisses, the fights, the laughter, the lust, the love. "I know you. Remember?"


End file.
